In The Wind
by Half Demon Alchemist
Summary: Arthur Kirkland hated going to football games. Well, he would, if his secret crush Alfed F. Jones wasn't on the team.
1. Football and Awkward Conversations

**Hello, this is my newest story. It'll be a two-shot, and I'll post the other chapter sometime this week/early next week, I'm guessing. Review please, I hope you enjoy! Inspired by Sally's Song from Nightmare Before Christmas.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia Axis Powers**

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><p><em>I sense there's something in the wind<em>

_That feels like tragedies at hand_

_And though I'd like to stand by him_

_Can't shake this feeling that I have_

_The worst is just around the bend_

_And does he notice my feelings for him?_

_And will he see how much he means to me?_

_I think it's not to be_

_What will become of my dear friend?_

_Where will his actions lead us then?_

_Although I'd like to join the crowd_

_In their enthusiastic cloud_

_Try as I may, it doesn't last_

_And will we ever end up together?_

_No, I think not, it's never to become_

_For am I not the one_

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><p><strong><em><span>Football and Awkward Conversations <span>_**

Arthur Kirkland had spent yet another football game staring at the player with the number 50 on his back, Alfred F. Jones. Of course, it wasn't like he really cared about the sport. In fact, he didn't at all. Besides, this wasn't even _football_. This was a barbaric and unappealing sport. Football was a great sport, although these Americans referred to that as _soccer_. Which, if you asked him, made no bloody sense at all.

The Brit didn't even want to come to these stupid football games, but as student council president, it polished his image. It made him look like he was just another student, that he could blend in. That he could _relate_ to all these _stupid teenagers_. Well, at least that's what the student council vice president had told him. So, he gave it a shot. Although really, he was only here to stare at the quarterback, or whatever the fuck that position was called.

Alfred was donned in a sweaty uniform, showing off his perfectly sculpted biceps. Ah, damn, that really was a great uniform. Even from where he sat in the bleachers, Arthur could see the beads of sweat dripping down Alfred's tanned face, and the mud stains marking his pants. The crowd was roaring in applause and cheers and Arthur guessed that another point had been awarded to his school's team, but he did not remove his green eyes from Alfred.

Bloody hell, how long had he been in love with that twat now? Two, maybe three, years now? They had only spoken a handful of times, and each second of conversation between them Arthur treasured and held close to his heart, remembering the American accent and the deep voice and loud laughter. The tilt of the head with every question, the large smile that was plastered on the bespectacled boy's face every second of the day.

They were in multiple classes together, but they still never communicated much besides those few times where Alfred struck up a minor conversation with questions like _'did we have homework last night?'_ or_ 'how'd you do on the test?'_ and sometimes even: _'are you coming to the game on Friday?'_

But there was never questions like _'you wanna go on a date after the game?'_ or _'you look really cute in that sweater'_ and never one declaration of _'I've always been in love with you.'_

A gust of cold wind snapped him out of this thoughts, as well as reminding him that now that it was late autumn, he really needed to start carrying around a warmer coat. It also made the blond realize that he was in fact, sitting alone in the bleachers, all the students around him had already flooded out of the stands.

"Damn, is it over already?" Arthur muttered to himself, mentally scolding himself for not paying more attention to the time. Fuck, he probably looked like a stalker just sitting here alone in the bleachers.

Standing up from his seat, he walked down the metal stairs, the echoing clack of his shoes the only sound. Breezes continued to brush against him, chilling him to his very core. For some reason, tonight's wind was different. It was cold, but comforting. It felt like tragedies at hand. Like his heart was going to be broken, crushed into pieces. With each step he took, he couldn't shake the feeling, but he continued on.

"Hey, yo! Artie, buddy, is that you? What're you still doing here?" A happy voice asked, and Arthur could practically _hear_ the smile.

Turning around, his green eyes met the gorgeous blue eyes of one certain blond football player. "Ah, well it appears I was lost in thought and didn't realize the game had ended..." Arthur answered, desperately trying to hide the fact that his heart was starting to beat quicker. "And my name is Arthur, not Artie."

Alfred nodded in reply, before smiling widely and saying, "but Artie suits you!"

"Arthur suits me just fine."

There was a pause, a moment of consideration, as Alfred jogged to catch up with the shorter teen. "Yeah, I guess it does, but it doesn't mean I'm gonna stop calling you Artie! Anyway, what did you think of the game?"

_I wasn't watching the game because I was too busy staring at you, dumbass._ "It was fine." He settled on saying, trying to ignore his nervous sweaty palms.

"_Fine?_ Fine? The game was incredible! We're probably going to states for that last point we scored! We really beat the other team into the dust!" Alfred began yapping in an excited tone about other games and regionals and sports terms that Arthur really couldn't understand, but he didn't interrupt.

The walk back to the student parking lot was long, which Arthur was secretly glad for. It meant more time with Alfred, and that was never a bad thing. Every moment he could spend with the other boy was a gift. Even just being in the same class together made him happy. The wind made the autumn evening seem like a winter night, and Arthur still had that strange empty, sinking feeling in his chest.

"Hey man, you cold? You're shivering an awful lot." Alfred said, eyeing the shivering teen up and down before asking, "you want my jacket?"

"No, you twat, I'm not cold at all." Of course, he was cold. In fact, he felt very cold. But there was no way in hell he was going to wear Alfred's jacket. He didn't think his heart could handle something like that. Having the big leather bomber jacket draped around his shoulders that must smell just like Alfred, considering the blond never took the bloody thing off.

Alfred didn't drop it. "But you're shivering."

"Am not."

"Are too." Alfred pressed on, "dude, I can see you shivering, you can't even deny it. Why the hell aren't you wearing a coat in fall?"

"Am not. And because I like this bloody sweater, that's why."

"Are too." Alfred didn't say anything else, instead silently slipping off his jacket with a smirk on his face and draping it around Arthur's petite frame. "No more shivering, Artie! The hero will always be here to lend you a jacket!"

_Don't give me hope like that, you twat._

_Don't look at me like you actually care about me._

_Don't make me think I'm special to you._

After a moment of silence, Arthur abandoned his thoughts and muttered a thank you, and the two teenagers continued on their way, walking slowly to avoid the rain puddles from the previous night and this morning that had not yet evaporated.

They turned the corner, Alfred still chatting animatedly about the game. Unlike most people, Arthur was satisfied with not sharing his feelings. He never planned on telling the athlete his true feelings, nor anyone else. Of course, sometimes he still got the desire to just stand up on the cafeteria table and shout _"Alfred, you fuckwad, I'm in love you with you!"_

But he would never really do that.

If he did, that confidence would be immediately followed by regret. Arthur could imagine it now, the teasing, the laughter. The jabbing apology from Alfred when he got rejected. Just thinking about it left a taste in his mouth like orange juice and mint toothpaste.

Alfred continued to talk on, seemingly not noticing that Arthur was spacing out, too busy thinking about whether or the jock noticed his feelings for him or not. Maybe Alfred was just teasing him, maybe this was all just some sick game. Maybe Alfred had known all along that Arthur was in love with him, but was too kind to tell him he wasn't interested.

Suddenly nervous, Arthur wondered if maybe that _was_ the case. Or if he said something, would Alfred know how much he means to him? Perhaps it would be easy, just a simple confession and then they could be happy together. Holding hands and going to the movies, picnics and kisses. Arthur could cheer at each and every game and Alfred would wait for him outside of every weekly student council meeting so they could go home together.

But no, it was not meant to be.

Arthur knew that, hell, that's what had stopped him from confessing every single day. The two weren't meant to be together. Alfred was a popular extrovert, the star of the football team. People swarmed around him and screamed his name from the stands of every game, holding up handmade signs with his name on it. Meanwhile Arthur was just the _"grouchy student council president"_ who couldn't cook for shit and scared everyone at school with his strict mannerisms and quick temper. He was just a lonely British transfer student who could count his friends on one hand.

What would become of the tall blond boy standing beside him? Alfred was obviously going places in life. He'd probably get a scholarship to a nice college for his athletic involvement at school and find himself a pretty girl and marry her. Something like that, right? _The American Dream._ Whatever would become of Alfred, it certainly didn't involve dating a bitter Englishman.

The green-eyed teen wished he could just join the crowds in the bleachers in their enthusiastic cloud, screaming and cheering Alfred's name with each movement the athlete made, clapping and hollering widely when he ran down the field or threw the football lavishly. A few times, Arthur had made an attempt to cheer along, but try as he may, it never lasted. With each cheer of Alfred's name he was reminded that that was the name of the boy he would never get to hold hands with, the boy he'd never be loved by.

Would they ever end up together? Arthur had asked himself that question many times, and although he tried to persuade himself otherwise, the answer always turned out to be a big fat no. He wanted to give himself hope, he wanted to twist his thoughts somehow so he could convince himself that maybe he had a chance with the boy of his dreams. But no, it wasn't plausible nor possible. Call him a pessimist, but Arthur knew they would never be.

"Hey, Artie, I've gotta question for ya."

"Yes, Alfred?" Arthur responded, waiting for the most likely idiotic question.

Alfred replied instantly, his voice nonchalant and seemingly with all the confidence in the world. "Where would you like to go on a date?"

The Brit's heart almost stopped beating. "Excuse me?"

Maybe it was time for him to reconsider that previous question. Maybe it was possible for them to be together? Could he really join the crowd in their enthusiasm cloud and cheer along as loud as he could? Was the feeling the wind gave him earlier just a lie? Was there hope for him yet? His heart was pounding, like it was trying to escape from his chest. Sweat beaded on his hands, making his palm sticky and warm.

Alfred laughed, and it sounded like music. "I mean, there's this girl and I've been meaning to ask out for a while now, and you seem like you have good taste for stuff like that, am I right? So Artie, help a bro out, please?"

Arthur did in fact, not want to _'help a bro out_' actually, he almost wanted to cry. It felt like his heart had shattered and the pieces had blown away in the wind. His eyes burned, and he couldn't tell if it was with sadness or humiliation. Even though it was only for a second, he had actually convinced himself that the incredible boy before him had actually liked him. Mostly he wanted to throw Alfred's damned bomber jacket to the ground, run back to his car, lock the doors and bawl his eyes out.

Instead, he blinked his green eyes rapidly and did not let the tears show. He cleared his throat, just like he would do in his student council meetings, and he looked at the street in front of him and did not glance at the other boy. Steadying his voice, he spoke. "Well Alfred, it really all depends on the girl you're asking out. Every girl likes different things, so you should really plan around that."

Arthur walked quicker, until he was at a pace where he was almost jogging. Alfred continued to walk alongside him, his perfect eyebrows scrunched in confusion at Arthur's reaction. "Artie, buddy, you okay?"

_Buddy. That's all I'll ever be._

"Yes Alfred, I'm perfectly fine." His voice was shaking, wasn't it? "But you know, you can never go wrong with going to the cinema or a nice restaurant, those are always good places to go." He had never been on a damn date in his entire life, but all those romance books he had read couldn't have possibly mislead him, right? "She's a lucky girl, I wish you two the best of luck together."

His pace sped up just a little bit more, but Alfred matched his speed. "Yeah man, thanks for the advice! I sure hope she says yes!" He sounded so excited, like a lovestruck buffoon. That happy expression on his face made Arthur feel like he had been stabbed in the heart.

Arthur slowed to a stop. "Of course she'll say yes, you're Alfred F. Jones!" He forced a laugh, and it came out cheap and fake, like a knockoff handbag that seemed real until you actually glanced at the labels. "I just remembered I have much to do, student council work and all that, so I'll be going now." He made for his escape, taking a sudden turn in the opposite direction of the student parking lot where his car was.

Hell, he'd rather walk home than walk with Alfred for one more second. The blond knew he wouldn't make it. If Alfred kept talking about this soon-to-be girlfriend of his, he'd break down.

"Artie!" The bespectacled blond called after him, and Arthur froze in his spot, but did not turn around. Alfred's mouth fell open, like he wanted to say something but couldn't choke out the words, and Arthur didn't wait for him to figure it out.

"Oh, you're right, silly me." The green-eyed teen shrugged off the bomber jacket, walking over and shoving it into Alfred's hands, trying not to establish eye contact, although he was sure that Alfred had caught a glimpse of his glassy eyes judging by his shocked face. "I'll be going now. Goodnight, Alfred."

Then he turned away, not wanting to hear the next words that would leave Alfred's mouth. And would they ever end up together? The tears pooled in his eyes as he realized his final answer. "No, I think not..." He whispered to himself, harshly wiping at the fat, salty tears dripping down his cheek. "It's never to become." The wind brushed against his cheek again, like it had earlier that evening. "For I am not the one."

_To be continued_


	2. Tea Mugs and Bomber Jackets

**Sorry for making you all wait so long, it took me a while to come up with an idea for the second chapter that I actually liked. But here it is, and I hope you enjoy reading it. Review please!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia Axis Powers**

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><p><strong><em><span>Tea Mugs and Bomber Jackets<span>_**

Alfred knew he was being kinda creepy, but he couldn't help it. After Friday night, all his thoughts had been about Arthur. And now, he was staring at the other boy during class with a burning intensity, trying to figure out Arthur's thoughts and feelings. But hell, he doubted if Arthur wanted anything to do with him ever again.

Maybe the Brit had figured out what he had meant when he asked about the dating advice, and had gotten freaked out. Sighing, Alfred turned his head back to the teacher who was rambling about something he honestly didn't give a damn about.

After deciding that the class lesson really wasn't all that important, Alfred stole another glance at the blond boy across the room. His heart swelled at the sight of the shorter male, and he watched as Arthur frantically scribbled down notes. With the ten minutes that were left of class, the American decided to get lost in his thoughts about Friday evening once again.

Why had Arthur reacted that way? He had almost tried to run away, like something terrible had just happened. He spoke normally, –albeit with a slightly shaky voice– and yet when he handed back the jacket, his emerald eyes were glassy. Damn, maybe he really shouldn't have tried to play it off like he was some cool popular kid. Maybe he should've just sucked it up, and asked.

Shit, he had screwed up big time, hadn't he?

Arthur wouldn't even _glance_ in his direction anymore, and anytime he tried to strike up a conversation, Arthur would get a panicked look on his face like a startled animal. It was now Wednesday, which meant it had been five whole days since that little conversation they had had on their way to the parking lot. There was another game in two days, and he had really been hoping that everything between them would be fixed by then.

Well, actually, Alfred had been hoping that they would have already been dating by then.

He had been in love with Arthur for over a year, if he was completely honest with himself. Alfred saw him walking down the hallway one day, a plethora of books in his skinny arms, walking with poise and elegance and absolutely radiating confidence. Later, Alfred had discovered that that same boy was the fierce student council president. And that was when Alfred had known that he wanted to date Arthur.

It had been over a year since then, and to Alfred's dismay, they still hadn't begun dating. Hell, they weren't even friends. Of course, it was understandable, considering every time Alfred even thought about confessing his feelings his face turned a magnificent shade of dark red and he stuttered like a bumbling idiot. But nonetheless, he was determined to ask Arthur out by Friday.

Last Friday, when he had asked Arthur for dating advice, he had just been trying to be cool, to make it seem casual and try to find out whether Arthur would be bothered by him asking out someone else. He had been hoping that Arthur would react the same way as a character from one of those dramas his mom loved to watch, and yell something like _'go out with me instead'_ or _'don't date anyone but me'_ even though he knew that Arthur would never actually say something like that, the thought had been tantalizing.

It didn't go as planned though. Arthur had become strange after that, and had left shortly after. Alfred really regretted trying to be the '_cool guy' _now. He should've just asked and been obvious about his intentions and feelings, like a true hero.

The piercing screech of the bell dismissed the class for lunch, and Alfred shoved his binder and notebook in his bag before rushing after Arthur who was already out the door. Maybe today could be the day he finally got his feelings off his chest?

Pushing his way through the other students with shouts of apologies and 'excuse me' he tried to wade through the sea of students, calling out after Arthur, hoping to gain the boy's attention. Finally, Alfred managed to shove through the crowd, only to see that the blond was nowhere in sight.

"Fuck!" Alfred whispered angrily to himself, biting his lip in frustration.

"Watch your fucking language!" A short Italian student –an upperclassman– yelled at him before shoving passed Alfred whilst flipping him off and walking away with a Spaniard. "Fucking asshole!"

Looking around the hallway once again, the bespectacled boy sighed in defeat as he realized that the person he was looking for was no longer in the area, and had probably fled away from him as soon as class had ended. Arthur had looked so... hurt last Friday, even if Alfred wasn't planning on confessing his feelings, he would still feel the need to fix things between them.

Fuck, he _would_ ask Arthur out, even if it was the last thing he ever did.

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><p>Somehow, Arthur had managed to avoid him all week until Friday evening. Each time Alfred had approached him class, he had carefully and skillfully avoided him. There was one time in class where Alfred had almost choked the words out, but once again Arthur evaded him.<p>

It was frustrating, in a way. All he wanted to do was ask the guy out, and suddenly it was like he was trying to buy an endangered animal off the black market. Classes were over for the week, and Alfred didn't have time to go chasing the Brit now, he had football practice to go to.

Putting on his gear, he prepped himself for the practice, slapping his hands on his cheeks. He could do this, he could be the best football player on the team.

"I got this..." He muttered to himself, brushing invisible dust off his jersey and not knowing if he was referring to the game or the Arthur situation.

That night after practice, he went out on the field with confidence.

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><p>The game had gone beautifully, and they had won by a landslide. Although there was one part towards the end of the game where Alfred had practically stopped in the middle of the field, mouth open and fumbling with the ball as his blue eyes spotted a certain someone staring at him from the bleachers.<p>

He locked eyes with Arthur, silently questioning why the student council president was there. Alfred had been positive that Arthur wouldn't show up to this game after what happened this week, but he had been wrong. There Arthur was, sitting in the middle of the bleachers, making wild hand motions at him to signal him to run down the field.

Seeing Arthur's hand motions, he snapped out of his thoughts and scored his team the point. The game was over, his team had won. Cheers bursted from the students on the bleachers, and his teammates surrounded him in an adrenaline filled group hug. Slaps on the back from all around, and praises on his performance. Girls were screaming for Alfred, practically swooning.

Pushing away from his teammates, blue eyes looked towards the stands. Searching, analyzing every last student, but he couldn't find the one boy he was looking for. Where could Arthur have possibly gone in those few minutes?

"Guys, I gotta go!" Alfred yelled to his teammates, preparing himself to bolt out of the field and to go find Arthur.

"Al, ya can't leave, we're gonna have a party to celebrate our win! Dude, ya don't wanna miss it, there's gonna be beer and hot chicks." One of his teammates replied, grinning wolfishly.

It was a tempting offer, but Alfred had something more important to do, he knew that. "Sorry guys, I'm gonna have to miss this one!" He lifted his hand in an apologetic motion before jogging away.

As soon as he left the field, girls and boys alike surrounded him. Congratulating him, flirting and inviting him to parties. He apologized after denying the invitation and dates, saying he had to go home. Damn, he needed to get to Arthur, but the blond boy was nowhere in sight.

Spotting someone else who could possibly help him, Alfred managed to escape from the small crowd around him and got into the bleachers, panting from the exhaustion of playing a long game. "Kiku! Hey Kiku! Can ya come here for a minute?"

The quiet Japanese boy excused himself from his two friends, a tall and muscular German boy and a shorter, smiling Italian boy who was clinging to the blond beside him.

"Greetings, Alfred-kun. You did well in the game." He congratulated, his accent thick. "Did you need something?"

"Yeah man, you're good friends with Arthur, right?"

The black-haired boy seemed to think for a moment, before nodding. "Correct, we are on the student council together."

"Help a bro out and tell me you know his address." Alfred practically pleaded. If he didn't get to Arthur now, things could get worse between them. And then before he knew it, Arthur would get whisked away by some foreign French exchange student and he wouldn't even remember Alfred's name.

"I've gone over his house before, I do believe I remember the address." Kiku answered, sensing that his american friend was close to desperation.

As Kiku produced a pen and scribbled the address on the athlete's outstretched hand, Alfred asked what Kiku was doing at the game anyway, seeing as the boy had never been one for social events like this.

"Ah, I am here for the newspaper club. My friends asked me to come along." He replied, looking back to his two friends, one of which nodded at him and the other was waving wildly with a smile. "Good luck with Arthur-kun."

"Thanks man!" Alfred shouted back, already halfway down the bleacher stairs.

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><p>Arthur had left the game early. Why he had shown up in the first place was something even he couldn't figure out. He had told himself he wasn't going to go, had distracted himself with schoolwork and cleaning. The blond had even gotten a new book and brewed a cup of his favorite tea, but somehow he still found himself sitting in the middle of the cold metal bleachers.<p>

He blamed Alfred for that, of course. If the American boy wasn't so damn attractive and incredible, he wouldn't be spending his Friday nights at football games and he most certainly wouldn't be feeling so distressed right now. This was all Alfred's fault.

Originally, he had been planning on just going to the game and avoided Alfred, making sure the other boy didn't see him and didn't talk to him. Nothing was wrong with just watching the game, right? But as soon as Alfred has seen him sitting there among all the other students, the guy practically froze on spot. After seeing the players of the other team approaching, Arthur resorted to using hand motions to show that Alfred needed to resume playing.

That in itself had been rather humiliating. He had freaked the other boy out so much last Friday night that now just seeing him made Alfred freeze. After Alfred had noticed him, he made sure to skillfully slip out of the crowd. He knew that if he stayed there, Alfred would come and talk to him after the game, probably to make fun of his silly behavior the other night.

The Brit had already been working his hardest to make sure that Alfred hadn't had the chance to talk to him, and so far it had been working. If he didn't talk to Alfred, then Alfred couldn't question his actions or tell him about that date that must've gone incredibly well.

Slipping off his shirt with a sigh, Arthur buttoned up his pajama shirt, straightening the soft green collar. Usually, he'd just wear an old band t-shirt and some boxers, but it had been getting rather cold as of late and he was tired of waking up in the middle of the night, shivering under the cotton sheets with goosebumps on his arms. Cracking his neck, he ran a hand through his sandy blond hair before trekking his way down the stairs.

Strolling into the kitchen with a yawn, Arthur grabbed the kettle off the stovetop and filled it with cold water before placing it back on the hot burner. Maybe all he needed right now was a cup of tea to calm him down. Tea was the answer to everything and in his opinion, you could never go wrong with a good book and an even better cup of Earl Grey.

Idling around as he waited for the water to boil, he pulled a mug out of the cupboard. It was a relaxing dark blue color, fading into a light blue. His mother had bought it a while ago, and he had to admit he had taken a liking to it. Speaking of his mother, he briefly wondered where she was before remembering that she was still at work. It didn't bother him, he had nothing against being home alone.

Sighing for the second time that night, Arthur leaned against the counter, daydreaming about the couple in the book he was currently reading. The main character was interesting, as was the romantic interest. He rather liked it, although he couldn't help but wonder when the two characters would get together. They were meant to be together, but it seemed like there was countless possibly obstacles to get in their way and the girl wouldn't just confess her damn feelings.

There was a knock on the front door, forcing Arthur to snap out of his thoughts. The kettle was still warming up, and the green-eyed teen moved away from the counter in order to go open the door for the person waiting there. Perhaps it was his mail courier with his package? He had ordered a few books a while back and it was around the date that the website said they should be arriving. But that couldn't be it, seeing as the mailman didn't deliver packages this late in the evening.

Confused, he put his hand on the doorknob, stopping for only a second to wonder who it could be one last time. There was another knock, and Arthur pulled open the door.

"Hey, Artie. Do you uh, have a s-second to talk?"

Alfred was standing there. On his doorstep. Still in his football uniform. He wasn't dreaming, was he? Arthur blinked quickly, trying to figure out if he was just hallucinating in his tired state, but no, this was indeed real. His secret crush was standing on his doorstep. What should he do? Oh god, he was in his pajamas. This couldn't be any worse, could it? What was he supposed to do?

Green eyes wide, he did the only thing he thought of.

He slammed the door in Alfred's face.

"A-Artie?" Alfred exclaimed in surprise, knocking on the door once again. He had driven all the way here, only to be met with a slammed door. If you asked him, it wasn't very fair. "Come on, man, I gotta talk to you!"

Meanwhile, on the other side of the door, Arthur was silently panicking. Oh god, Alfred probably thought he was being rude or maybe he thought a Arthur hated him and why the fuck is Alfred even here?

Opening the door once again, he exposed only a sliver of himself, trying to hide behind the rest of the door whilst staying inside so they athlete couldn't see his pajamas, or his bright red face.

"Why the bloody hell are you standing on my doorstep?" He asked, cringing when the words fell from his lips harsher than intended, but he was pleased that the other boy wouldn't be able to hear the embarrassment in his tone.

"At the game, you left before I could say thanks. Ya know, for signaling me to move again."

Arthur blanched. That was the reason for his sudden appearance? "Is that it, Alfred? You showed up at my house this late in the evening to say _thanks_?"

Both boys ignored the fact that Arthur was the reason Alfred had gotten distracted in the first place, instead continuing the discussion.

"Well, uh, yes. I mean, no, that's not it." Alfred mumbled, his words tumbling out his mouth as his cheeks became a darker and darker shade at an increasing rate. "That's not it at all."

"Then what is it?" Had the taller boy come here to poke fun at him? Had he come to tease and jest and say he knew about Arthur's feelings all along? Oh god, what if some twat had found out and told Alfred? His curiosity almost overcame his embarrassment, but he kept the door mostly closed.

"Ya know that conversation we had last week, right?"

Arthur nodded.

"And you know how I asked you for like, dating advice, right?"

Of course he remembered, it was the moment he almost began to cry. Of course he remembered, because those few sentences had made him fully realize that that he wasn't the one for Alfred.

"Yes, Alfred, I remember."

Alfred ran a sweaty hand through his sandy blond hair before rubbing the back oh his neck. He was here now, he was here, standing in front of Arthur, but somehow the words just wouldn't come out. On his drive over to Arthur's house, he had carefully planned what he was going to say and how smooth and flirtatious he would be, but somehow, it wasn't turning out the way he had planned at all.

In fact, this was rather humiliating. "Well, I actually, uh, meant to ask you out." He muttered softly, almost hoping that the Englishman wouldn't hear him.

"Pardon? Can you repeat that?" Arthur asked, ignoring the whistling tea kettle in the background.

Fuck, Alfred really didn't want to repeat it. But he couldn't just show up at Arthur's door, mumble some crap and then leave. That'd be more humiliating than actually saying what he came here for.

A real hero would do this, he reminded himself. A real hero would say what he wanted and get his feelings off his chest, right?

"I actually meant to ask _you_ out. On Friday. But I screwed up and made things weird between us so I couldn't just leave things like that." He rambled on, saying unnecessary words and hand motions out of nervousness. "But really I had just wanted to ask you." He paused once again, looking at the ground before taking a deep breath and looking into Arthur's eyes, those big pools of forest green with hidden sparks of emerald. Those eyes were one of the things that made Alfred fall in love with Arthur in the first place.

And somehow, staring into them took his nervousness away. A small smile twisted his lips upwards, and Alfred asked the question he had wanted to for the last year. "Artie, will you go on a date with me?"

Part of him was expecting Arthur to slam the door in his face again and the other part was waiting for a slap across the face, but somehow, although he was nervous, he was also at ease. He had finally said it, he had finally tried to get his feelings across to the other boy, and it was a weight off his chest.

The door opened, revealing a shocked and blushing Arthur. His jaw fell open, and a pale hand covered his mouth, green eyes blinking rapidly. Alfred definitely didn't regret confessing now, and he'd do it again, if it meant he could see that stupidly-shocked look on the shorter teen's face.

Meanwhile, Arthur was trying to figure out if this was a prank. His heart as racing, far faster than it should. Was this all some sick joke? If he said yes, would Alfred's friends jump from the bushes and yell 'psych' whilst laughing at him?

He wanted to say yes, he desperately wanted to say yes. But part of him was afraid too. Locking eyes with Alfred, he tried to sort out his thoughts, Alfred's question and the whistle of the tea kettle echoing in his mind. The American boy's eyes were such a calming blue, like the color of his mug. They were aglow with so many emotions, it was hard to decipher.

"Yes." He found himself saying.

"Yes?" Alfred asked, a grin forming on his lips. Overjoyed and partly surprised.

The grin was contagious, and Arthur found a small smile playing on his own lips. "Yes, Alfred Jones, I'll go on a date with you."

They stared at each other a moment longer, Alfred mentally cheering for himself as Arthur inwardly sighed with relief as no teenage boys popped out from his shrubbery and laughed at him.

"Hey, man, I think your teapot is whistling."

Arthur nodded. "Would you like to come in for tea?"

Alfred didn't like tea, they both knew that. He preferred coffee, dark and rich. And even though they both knew that, it didn't surprise either of them when Alfred laughed and said yes before walking in Arthur's house.

As Arthur prepared two cups of tea, he had to pull out a second mug. A dark green one, simple and elegant. And even though most of the water in the kettle had evaporated, there was still just the perfect amount for two cups of Earl Grey tea.

"Oh, and Alfred?"

The blond looked away from his steaming mug that was resting on the counter as he waited for it to cool down enough to drink. "Hmm? What is it, Artie?"

Arthur took a sip of scalding tea, seemingly unaffected by the temperature. "Next time you want to ask someone out, don't do it by saying you're planning on asking someone else out."

"It worked with you, didn't it?" Alfred replied with a wink, laughing as Arthur narrowed his eyes in a mock glare.

"Why yes, I suppose it did."

Both males laughed, Alfred loudly and Arthur just giving a soft chuckle. "What part of you thought that was a good idea anyway?"

Alfred shrugged, the grin still on his face. "I dunno, man, it seemed like a good idea at the time."

Arthur stared, trying to figure out how Alfred had possibly ever thought that it would be a good idea to confess to the person you like by telling them that you needed advice asking out someone else. That seemed rather counterproductive.

"You're an idiot, Alfred." Arthur said with a teasing smile on his face, moving to the cabinet to get out a snack for the two of them.

"That's probably true, but you're the one going on a date with this idiot."

"Yeah, I am."

The Brit couldn't help but laugh at his own thoughts from the other night. Just to think, exactly a week ago he had been thinking that he and Alfred would never be together, that he'd never be the one for someone like Alfred, and he had been so utterly convinced that was true. But here he was, a week later, drinking tea in his kitchen with the boy he had had a crush on for over a year.

Wind blew in through the open window, and as he reached over to close it, Arthur noted how this wind was indeed very different than the wind he felt last week. This breeze was warmer, filled with the scent of cinnamon from the bakery down the street. It was comforting and familiar, like an old romance novel.

His heart was lighter than ever, and his cup of tea tasted better than it had in a long time. Things were finally looking up for him, and suddenly Arthur didn't mind the idea of cold autumn wind anymore, because he knew that Alfred would be there from now on to loan him that over-sized bomber jacket just like he had promised.

**End**


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